Wicked Witch
by Sixty Five Roses
Summary: The story of how Sharon originally became known as the Wicked Witch. Goes way before her LAPD days.


**A/N**: I wanted to write a Sharon background fan fiction for a long time now and didn't have an idea until now. I thought of showing how she became 'The Wicked Witch' and it goes way before she even joined the police. So here it is.

**Trigger Warning**: This story contains descriptions of bullying. As a person who has been bullied, I do not find it triggering, but if you do, please avoid reading this story.

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The laughter of her fellow students rang in her ears for a long time after she was out of the lunch room. She pushed the door of the toilet and ran through the doorway, holding a hand to her mouth.

"Hey idiot, look where you're going!" she heard a masculine voice. She looked at the source of the voice, noticing a guy with his pants down peeing into a urinal and realized that she was in the boys' toilet. With tears rising in her eyes, she hurried to leave and pushed the next door, walking straight into a supply closet. This will have to do; she decided and closed the door behind her. She sank to the floor and let her tears out. As long as they didn't see her cry, she will be okay.

The door suddenly flung open and a young, perky brunette stood in front of her. Sharon looked upwards, knowing that once again she was in trouble. That girl was her personal hell-maker ever since they were 5 and playing in the sandbox. She has grown more vicious with every single moment.

"Oh, look… it's the wicked witch of the west. Careful, witch… your tears will melt your face." The brunette said as two other girls appeared behind her.

"Hey, let's melt the witch!" One of the girls called out and before Sharon could even protest, one of them grabbed her by her collar and dragged her out of the closet and into the toilet – the girls' toilet this time. She kicked and tried to get free, but another girl held her shoulders and the third kicked her feet. She fell on her knees and felt the acid climbing up her throat.

"Eww, she's getting green again," one of the girls remarked.

"Don't throw up on us, wicked witch," the brunette said, taking a step back. "Come on; let's finish with her before she gets us all green." One of the girls turned the water in the basin on and the other grabbed Sharon by her shoulders, pulling her off the floor.

"Please, don't do this," she found herself begging. These girls have been giving her a hard time for years now, calling her 'The Wicked Witch' after an incident that happened in kindergarten, where Sharon threw up in front of all the kids after finding a dead cat in the playground. These girls had a habit of meowing after her as she walked down the halls and throwing paper balls at her, but things never escalated this way before.

"Do you prefer the water to be hot or cold?" the brunette asked as she watched the basin slowly filling. Sharon caught her own reflection in the mirror. She did look green and for a good reason now. And she looked anything but pretty or confident or any of the things she wished she could be at that moment. There was nothing comforting about it and that thought alone made her want to cry. But before she could shed one tear, she felt her face being shoved into the sink, her ability to breathe suddenly limited. She struggled, feeling the front of her shirt becoming wet and sticking to her skin. Hands pushed her head deeper into the sink and the tip of her nose rubbed against the ceramic. She heard muffled laughter and wanted to cry, but any tears that came out of her eyes mixed with water right away. _What a _humiliation, she thought. She would gladly allow herself to drown, just so this torture would stop. Maybe if she stopped fighting them, it would. She closed her eyes and released what little air that was left in her lungs. Bubbles surrounded her face and it felt as if she was melting. _I'm melting, I'm _melting, she thought. If she melted right now and went down the drain in a long green stream, she wouldn't have minded. It would actually be a relief. She felt the hand that held her under the water releasing its hold of her and heard the girls leaving the toilet in a hurry. Raising her head from the sink, she struggled for air as she allowed herself to drop on the floor and throw up. It was not green, it was clear – like water and it made her feel just a bit better as her airways were suddenly clear.

_I might be the wicked witch, alright_, she thought, _but I do not melt easily_.


End file.
